MEMOIRS
OF
SARAH
DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH,
AND OF THE
COURT OF QUEEN ANNE
BY MRS. A. T. THOMSON,
AUTHORESS OF “MEMOIRS OF THE COURT OF HENRY THE EIGHTH,” “LIFE OF SIR
WALTER RALEIGH,” &c.
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
MDCCCXXXIX.
LONDON:
PRINTED BY IBOTSON AND PALMER,
SAVOY STREET.
CONTENTS
OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
CHAPTER I.
Character of Lord Peterborough—Of Lord Montague—Marriage of
the Lady Mary Churchill with Lord Monthermer—Character and
success of her husband—The violence of party spirit at this
era—Conduct of the Duchess in politics—Her dislike to Lord
Rochester—His character—Preferment of Harley to the
secretaryship—Views originally entertained by Marlborough
and Lord Godolphin—Anecdote of Lord Wharton at Bath—A proof
of political rancour _Page_ 1
CHAPTER II.
Conduct of Lord Sunderland—Influence of the Duchess understood
at foreign courts—Anecdote of Charles the Third of Spain 29
CHAPTER III.
Complete triumph of the Whigs—Attempts made to bring Lord
Sunderland into the Cabinet—Scheme for insuring the
Hanoverian succession—The Queen’s resentment at that measure 55
CHAPTER IV.
Decline of the Duchess’s influence—Her attempt in favour of
Lord Cowper—Singular Letter from Anne in
explanation—Intrigues of the Tories—Harley’s endeavours to
stimulate the Queen to independence 74
CHAPTER V.
State of parties—Friendship of Marlborough and
Godolphin—Discovery of Mr. Harley’s practices—Intrigues of
the Court 109
CHAPTER VI.
Vexations and disappointments which harassed the Duke and
Duchess of Marlborough—Vacillations of Anne—Her appointment
of Tory bishops 124
CHAPTER VII.
1708—Vacillation of Anne—Invasion of the Pretender—Results of
that event—Secret intrigues with Mrs. Masham—The death of
Prince George—The Duchess of Marlborough’s affectionate
attentions to the Queen on that occasion—Her disappointment 147
CHAPTER VIII.
Trial of Dr. Sacheverell—His solemn protestation of
innocence—Scene behind the curtain where the Queen sat—Fresh
offence given by the Duchess to Anne 164
CHAPTER IX.
Final separation between the Queen and the Duchess—Some
anecdotes of Dr. and Mrs. Burnet—Dr. Burnet remonstrates
with the Queen—The Queen’s obstinacy—Dismissal of Lord
Godolphin—Letter from the Duchess to the Queen 193
CHAPTER X.
Anecdotes of Swift and Addison—Publication of the
Examiner—Charge brought in the Examiner against the Duchess 212
CHAPTER XI.
Return of the Duke and Duchess—Their reception—The Duchess’s
advice to her husband—Political changes in which the Duke
and Duchess were partly concerned 256
CHAPTER XII.
Third Marriage of Lord Sunderland—Calumnies against the Duke
and Duchess of Marlborough—Interview between the Duchess and
George the First—The result—Her differences with Lord
Sunderland—Illness, death, and character of the Duke of
Marlborough 320
CHAPTER XIII.
Funeral of the Duke of Marlborough—His bequests to the
Duchess—Immediate proposals of marriage made for her in her
widowhood—Character and letters of Lord Coningsby—Character
of the Duke of Somerset—His Grace’s offer of marriage to the
Duchess 352
CHAPTER XIV.
Anecdotes of the Duchess of Marlborough and the Duchess of
Buckingham—Pope’s “Atossa”—Sir Robert Walpole—The Duchess’s
enmity towards that minister—Singular scene between them—The
Duchess’s causes of complaint enumerated 376
CHAPTER XV.
State of the Duchess of Marlborough with respect to her
family—Henrietta Duchess of Marlborough—Lord
Godolphin—Pelham Holles Duke of Newcastle—The Spencer
family—Charles Duke of Marlborough—His extravagance—John
Spencer—Anecdote of the Misses Trevor—Letter to Mr.
Scrope—Lawsuit 397
CHAPTER XVI.
The Duchess of Marlborough’s friends and contemporaries—Arthur
Maynwaring—Dr. Hare—Sir Samuel Garth—Pope—Lady Mary Wortley
Montague—Colley Cibber—Anecdote of Mrs. Oldfield; of Sir
Richard Steele 417
CHAPTER XVII.
The different places of residence which belonged to the
Duchess—Holywell-house, Wimbledon, Blenheim—Account of the
old mansion of Woodstock—Its projected destruction—Efforts
of Sir John Vanburgh to save it—Attack upon the Duchess,
relative to Blenheim, in the Examiner 436
CHAPTER XVIII.
Old age and decline of the Duchess—Her incessant wrangling
with Sir Robert Walpole—Her occupations—The compilation of
her Memoirs—Her death, and character 460
APPENDIX 507
MEMOIRS
OF THE
DUCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.
CHAPTER I.
1703–4.
Character of Lord Peterborough—Of Lord Montague—Marriage of the Lady
Mary Churchill with Lord Monthermer—Character and success of her
husband—The violence of party spirit at this era—Conduct of the
Duchess in politics—Her dislike to Lord Rochester—His character
Preferment of Harley to the secretaryship—Views originally
entertained by Marlborough and Lord Godolphin—Anecdote of Lord
Wharton at Bath—A proof of political rancour.
Amongst those friends who hastened to pour forth their condolences to
the Duchess of Marlborough on the loss of her son, the celebrated
Charles Mordaunt, Earl of Peterborough, was one of the first, and
amongst the most eager to testify his concern. This nobleman, whose
enmity towards Marlborough became afterwards conspicuous, was at this
time one of the numerous votaries of the arrogant Duchess. Lord
Peterborough’s extravagances gave a meteor-like celebrity to his general
character. Among many of the celebrated individuals who illumined the
age, he would, nevertheless, have been eminent, even had his course been
less peculiar, and his deportment like that of ordinary men.
The eventful public life of this nobleman began in the reign of Charles
the Second; at the early age of eighteen, he had distinguished himself
in the cause of patriotism by attending Algernon Sidney to the scaffold,
an act of kindness and of courage, which was the commencement of his
singular career. “He lived,” says Horace Walpole, “a romance, and was
capable of making it a history.”[1] At this period of his life, nature
and fortune alike combined to favour the brilliancy of that career,
which, in its eccentricities, and in the rapid succession of events by
which it was marked, had not a parallel in the times of which we treat.
Lord Peterborough owed much to circumstances. Of high ancestry, an earl
by birth, and afterwards by creation, being the first Earl of Monmouth,
he graced his favoured station by the charm of his manners, by his
varied accomplishments, and by the union of a daring courage with the
highest cultivation of the intellectual powers. Celebrated for the wit
which he delighted to display, his enterprising character was enhanced
in the estimation of all who admired valour, by those personal
advantages which the imagination is disposed to combine with heroism and
with eloquence. In both, he exceeded most other men of his time. Without
being worthy of challenging a comparison with Marlborough, he dazzled,
he interested, he astonished the world. He “was a man,” as Pope truly
describes him, “resolved neither to live nor to die like other men.”[2]
In those days, when a constellation of bright stars threw a lustre over
the annals of our country, Lord Peterborough shone conspicuous, even
whilst Marlborough lived to pursue successive triumphs.
The varied scenes through which Lord Peterborough passed, contributed to
form “the strange compound” which so much amused society. He began his
warlike exploits in the naval service; and even whilst he cultivated the
Muses, “appeared emulous to mix only with the rough and then untutored
tars of ocean.”[3] Disgusted with a maritime life, he became a land
officer; yet alternately assisted in the council, or dazzled the senate
with his oratory. His brilliant exploits in Spain were the result of
consummate skill, aided by a romantic daring, which converted even the
gallantries into which the profligacy of the age and his own laxity of
principle betrayed him, into sources of assistance to his designs. It
has been said that he employed the illusions of perspective, which he
well understood, to impose on the enemy with respect to the number of
troops under his command. Whatever were his arts, the results of his
wonderful energy and bravery were so effective as very nearly to
transfer the crown of Spain from the Bourbon to the Austrian family.
The abilities of this nobleman as a negociator were equally remarkable;
nor was the celerity of his movements a circumstance to be overlooked,
in times when such exertions as those which Peterborough made to compass
sea and land, appeared almost miraculous. Ever on the wing, he excelled
even Lord Sunderland in the rapidity of his migrations, and is said “to
have seen more kings and postilions than any man in Europe.”
So singular a course could not be maintained, nor such unparalleled
dexterity acquired, without the strong, impelling power of vanity. Lord
Peterborough, with all his attainments, after long experience, with some
admirable qualities of the heart, was the slave of that pervading
impulse, the love of admiration. The friend of Pope and Swift, the
associate of Marlborough, delighted to declaim in a coffee-house, and to
be the centre of any admiring circle, no matter whom or what. The vanity
of Peterborough is, however, matter of little surprise: it was the
besetting sin of those wild yet gifted companions of the days of his
early youth, Rochester, Sedley, Buckingham, and Wharton, who competed to
attain the highest pitch of profligacy, characterised by the most
extravagant degree of absurdity and reckless eccentricity. To be
pre-eminent in demoralisation was not, in such times, a matter of easy
attainment; therefore it became necessary for the aspirant for that
species of fame to garnish deeds of guilt which might be deemed
common-place, with such accompaniments of fancy as men utterly lost to
shame, without a sense of decency, without time for remorse, without
fear of hell, or belief in heaven, could, in the depths of their infamy,
contrive and devise.
Lord Peterborough and Lord Wharton, disregarding all moral obligations,
gave birth to sons, who, reared under their baneful influence, carried
the precepts of their parental tempters into an extremity far exceeding
what even those exemplary parents could have anticipated. In Philip,
Duke of Wharton, the world beheld, happily, almost the last of that
series of rich, profligate, bold, and desperate men, who, like the
second Buckingham, gilded a few fair points of character by the aid of
resplendent talents. It was the destiny of Lord Peterborough to reap
disappointment and chagrin from the seed which he had sown in the mind
of his eldest son and heir, John Lord Mordaunt, whom he survived.[4]
The regard of Lord Peterborough at this period for the Duchess of
Marlborough was as assiduous as his enmity towards her and the Duke
became afterwards remarkable. In a letter written soon after their
common loss, he urged upon the bereaved father the necessity of seeking
in society the solace to his mournful reflections. In other effusions of
friendship, addressed to the Duchess, the Earl is profuse in the
language of gallantry; and, if we might believe in professions, felt an
ardour of admiration which led him to declare, “that he feared no other
uneasiness than not being able to meet those opportunities which might
contribute to what he most desired, the continuation of the Duchess’s
good opinion.”[5]
These expressions had a deeper meaning than compliment; and Lord
Peterborough sought also a closer connexion than friendship with the
exalted house of Marlborough. The Lady Mary Churchill, the youngest
daughter of the Duke and Duchess, and, at the time of her brother’s
death, the only unmarried daughter, was one of the most distinguished of
her family for beauty, as well as for the higher qualities of the mind
and heart. Twenty-two years afterwards, Lady Mary Wortley Montague,
speaking of this lovely woman, described her as still so pre-eminent in
her hereditary charms, that she might then (in 1725) “be the reigning
beauty, if she pleased.”[6] Lady Mary, afterwards the object of her
mother’s aversion, was, in her early days, the pride and darling of both
parents, and the frequent subject of mention in her father’s letters.
Even in her sixteenth year there were many suitors who aspired to her
hand, and amongst others the son of Lord Peterborough, the young Lord
Mordaunt, whose suit was urged by his father, but rejected by the Duke
of Marlborough, on account of the dissolute character of the young
nobleman. It was probably this disappointment which first chilled the
friendship of Lord Peterborough, and turned it into rancour.
Proposals of marriage from the Earl of Huntingdon, son of Lord Cromarty,
were also made to Lady Mary, but in vain;[7] the character of his
father, Lord Cromarty, who was, according to Cunningham, “long looked
upon as a state mountebank,” probably operating against the young man’s
addresses; for the Duchess sought to extend and strengthen her
connexions, and not to endanger the stability of her fortune by an
alliance with the weak or the disreputable. Political reasons, it has
been said by historians, decided the destiny of the fair victim, than
whom “there was not in England,” says Cunningham, “a more acceptable
sacrifice to be offered up for appeasing the rage of parties,” and
caused her finally to become the wife of Lord Monthermer, eldest son of
the Earl of Montague. Marlborough, as Cunningham relates, before setting
out on his latest campaign, “fearing lest Whigs and Tories should
combine together to ruin him, recommended to his wife to propose a
marriage of one of his daughters to the Earl of Montague’s son, as a
means of their reconciliation, and the establishment of his own
power.”[8]
The projected alliance, in most important respects, appeared to be
highly advantageous. The House of Montague, anciently Montacute, was
already connected with some of the wealthiest and most powerful among
the nobility. Resembling, in one respect, the Churchill family, the
progenitors of the young man on whom Lady Mary’s hand was ultimately
bestowed, had been devoted to the service of the Stuarts. There is a
tradition that one of the race, Edward Montague, who held the office of
Master of the Horse to Queen Katharine, wife of Charles the Second, was
removed from his post, for venturing to press the hand of his royal
mistress,—an offence not likely to be of frequent occurrence, if
historians have not done great injustice to the amiable but ungainly
Katharine of Braganza.
The father of John Duke of Montague, who married Lady Mary Churchill,
was a singular instance of something more than prudence,—even
cupidity,—combined with liberality and a great mind. This nobleman
enjoyed a fortunate, if not a happy life. He was appointed ambassador at
the Court of France, by the especial favour of Charles the Second; and
conferred on his station, as such, as much honour as he received from so
distinguished a mission. During his residence at Paris, he secured the
hand of the Countess of Northumberland, a rich widow, who had quitted
England to escape the disgraceful addresses of Charles the Second. By
this union he secured an income of six thousand a year; which was
farther increased, upon his return to England, by his purchase of the
place of Master of the King’s Wardrobe, for which he paid six thousand
pounds. The prosperity of the family was, however, checked during the
reign of James the Second, who, in consequence of Lord Montague’s known
enmity to the Roman Catholics, took from him the post which he had
obtained. This disgust prepared the offended nobleman for the
Revolution, towards which he contributed by his influence and exertions.
Honours and fortune then became abundant. The titles of Earl of Montague
and Viscount Monthermer succeeded to that of a simple baron. A second
marriage added to his wealth; for his first wife having died in giving
birth to his only surviving son, he resolved to acquire, by an union
with the Duchess of Albemarle, a revenue of six thousand pounds
additional to his wealth, and, moreover, to unite his family with the
house of Newcastle. The Duchess of Albemarle, whom he for these
interested motives addressed, was the heiress of Henry Cavendish, Duke
of Newcastle, and relict of Christopher March, Duke of Albemarle. There
was only one slight blot upon her perfections as a wife—she was insane.
In her delusion she had resolved to marry no one but a monarch; but her
suitor soon compassed this difficulty, for he is said, with what truth
it is not easy to determine, to have wooed and married her, in 1690, as
Emperor of China, and to have cherished the delusion, which appears to
have lasted nearly forty years; for the Duchess, during her residence at
Newcastle-house in Clerkenwell, where she lived until her death, in
1734, would never suffer any person to serve her, save on the bended
knee.[9] A later acquisition of wealth to the family took place, also,
on the death of the celebrated Sir Ralph Winwood, Secretary of State to
James the Second.
The vast fortune which had been thus from various sources accumulated,
was spent by the Earl of Montague in a manner peculiarly befitting his
lofty station. He could sustain his rank with splendour and dignity, and
yet think his table honoured, not encumbered, by the presence of learned
men, of no rank, but whose talents shed upon their well-judging patron a
reflected lustre which wealth could not give. At his magnificent
residence in Bloomsbury-house, now the British Museum, the ingenious St.
Evremond, and other eminent foreigners, were seen mingling with the wits
and artists of the time, in saloons and halls, to garnish which the arts
of painting and sculpture had been called into requisition, and
liberally remunerated. The taste of this excellent and high-minded
nobleman for architecture, for gardening, as well as for the other arts
which embellish, was displayed both in his abode in London and his
estate in Northamptonshire. His style of living corresponded with his
lofty ideas, and equalled, if it did not excel, that of the most
princely of his contemporaries.
From this noble stock sprang John Montague, Viscount Monthermer, who
became the son-in-law of Marlborough. An intimacy had for some time
subsisted between the Earl his father, and the Duchess, his future
mother-in-law.[10] But the Lady Mary Churchill, his destined bride, when
the match was proposed to her, proved averse from complying with the
wishes of her parents, having already, as report alleged, “set her eyes
and her heart upon another young gentleman, a very handsome youth.” “Yet
she must,” adds Cunningham, “have obeyed her mother’s commands
immediately, had not an accident happened, which proved very lamentable
to the Marlborough family.” The event to which he alludes was the death
of Lord Blandford; and the marriage of the reluctant young lady was
suspended until the period of mourning had been duly observed. It then,
however, took place; for it was not the custom of the day to take into
account the affections, in the calculations which were made in
matrimonial contracts. Nor were the family of the young bridegroom
likely to relax in their efforts to promote a favourable issue. Such is
the mutability of human affections, and the folly of our most ardent
desires, that Marlborough appears afterwards to have disliked, and the
Duchess to have despised, though without adequate reason, the man whom
she at this time preferred for her son-in-law. “All his talents,” thus
she wrote of his lordship thirty-seven years afterwards, “lie in things
natural in boys of fifteen years old, and he is about two-and-fifty—to
get people into his garden and wet them with squirts, and to invite
people to his country-houses, and put things into their beds to make
them itch, and twenty such pretty fancies like these.”[11] Such was her
opinion of this son-in-law; how far it was guided by prejudice will be
seen presently.
The union, when once completed, seems to have afforded many means of
happiness to the beautiful Lady Mary. As far as worldly advantages were
to be considered, she encountered no disappointment. Soon after her
marriage, the father of her husband was created a duke through the
interest of her parents, and the reversion of the post of master of the
wardrobe settled on his son through the influence of the Duchess of
Marlborough, and, as she herself alleges, as part of her daughter’s
portion.[12]
An unbroken course of prosperity attended the long life of Lord
Monthermer, who had not many years to wait before he attained a higher
title, on the death of his father, the Duke of Montague.[13] The
disposition and character of the Lord Monthermer, those most important
points of all, were, notwithstanding the character given of him by the
Duchess, said, by a keen-sighted judge, to have been truly amiable.
“He was,” says Horace Walpole, writing to his friend Sir Horace Mann,
“with some foibles, a most amiable man, and one of the most feeling I
ever knew.” “He had,” says Lord Hailes, in reference to the Duchess’s
description of the Duke’s childish propensities, “other pretty
fancies, not mentioned in the memoranda of his mother-in-law; he did
good without ostentation. His vast benevolence of soul is not recorded
by Pope; but it will be remembered while there is any tradition of
human kindness or charity in England.” The defects of this nobleman
appear to have been a thirst for gain, producing an inveterate
place-hunting, which detracted from his better qualities. “He was,”
says Walpole, “incessantly obtaining new, and making the most of all:
he had quartered on the great wardrobe no less than thirty nominal
tailors and arras workers,”—employments which were dropped at his
death. This corrupt proceeding he redeemed, in some measure, by great
liberality, paying out of his own property no less than two thousand a
year in private pensions. The Duke of Montague’s talents fitted him
indeed for better things than the grovelling love of gain. Sir Robert
Walpole entertained so high an opinion of his abilities, that he was
very desirous that the Duke should command the forces,—a charge which
his grace, fearful of his own experience, declined.[14] He received,
with his bride, an addition to her portion of ten thousand pounds,
presented on the occasion by the Queen, who had conferred a similar
gift on Lady Bridgewater. What was of still more importance, the
favour of Anne was continued to him when the Marlborough family was
disgraced, and the high offices which he held under George the First
and Second attested the continuance of royal regard.
1703. The Duke of Marlborough passed the summer of this year in
fruitless attempts to stimulate the timid spirit of the Dutch generals
with whom, as commander-in-chief, he was destined to co-operate, and to
unite the discordant opinions by which his operations against the French
were weakened, and his plans wholly frustrated. So harassed and
dispirited was the great commander at this time, when all his
persuasions could not avail to induce the allied armies to attack the
French lines, that he looked forward with something like pleasure to the
projected siege of Limburg, as to a sort of episode to his weary
existence amongst his friendly, but obstinate coadjutors. One painful
and inconvenient effect of mental anxiety continually attacked the Duke,
in the cruel form of continual and severe headache. To this, and to the
harassed frame and dejected spirits of which it was a concomitant, he
refers, when writing to the Duchess, in terms which ought to have made
an affectionate wife careful lest she should increase his uneasiness by
any line of conduct which she could possibly avoid.
“When[15] I last writ to you, I was so much disordered, that I writ in
very great pain. I cannot say I am yet well, for my head aches
violently, and I am afraid you will think me lightheaded, when I tell
you that I go to-morrow to the siege of Limburg, in hopes to recover my
health. But it is certainly true that I shall have more quiet there than
I have here; for I have been these last six days in a perpetual dispute,
and there I shall have nobody but such as will willingly obey me.”
The Duchess was too much absorbed in her own schemes, to regard the
unkindness and impropriety of adding to her husband’s perplexities,
which were already sufficiently overpowering, and which demanded an
undisturbed attention. She was carried along, as it were, by a torrent.
Her hopes, her endeavours, centered all in one point; the abasement of
the high church party, and the establishment of the Whigs at the head of
affairs, were the objects of her political existence. To accomplish this
purpose, she now employed all the force of her arguments, not only to
convert the Duke, but by correspondence, and in conversation, to sway
the mind of her sovereign, and bend it to her purpose.
The marriage between the two great families of Churchill and Montague
was intended to propitiate the favour both of Whigs and Tories, by
adding connexions among each of those parties to the interests of the
Duke and Duchess of Marlborough. Never was there a period in which party
spirit manifested itself with greater virulence than at the present
juncture, and the contentions in parliament were so vehement, that a
dreadful storm seemed impending over the country. The popularity of the
Whigs was increased, and strong suspicions were entertained that even
the Queen’s inclinations began to be favourable to that party. “But what
was matter of hope to the Whigs,” observes Cunningham, “seemed to the
Tories to be only a dangerous tempest ready to break upon the church;
and the furious clergy began to prophesy and report about the country
great dangers of—the Lord knows what! So that it was now easy to
perceive what influence there is in England in the mere cry of
religion.”[16]
The Duchess of Marlborough was not inactive in the midst of this tempest
of parties. Her dislike to Lord Rochester, and her abhorrence of the
pretensions to superiority in spiritual affairs assumed, according to
her notions, by that nobleman and his partisans, were the main sources
of her adoption of Whig principles. Lord Rochester had, in the former
reign, offended her pride by urging upon the King her removal from the
service of the Princess Anne. The wound was inflamed continually, and,
at last, the enmity rose to open hostilities. Lord Rochester was as
averse to a reconciliation with his haughty foe as the Duchess herself;
their influence bore the semblance of rival-ship; their advice drew the
compliant Queen different ways; Lord Rochester guided the prejudices,
the Duchess governed the affections of her royal slave. Finally, female
influence prevailed: for when have men adequately opposed its sway? Yet
it is certain, first, that Anne long resisted the arguments of her
friend, and, secondly, that the Duchess would never have been completely
successful, had not the violence and arrogance of her foes blazed out,
and proved the most opportune and effectual aid that ever plotting woman
received. To “the mad conduct of the tacking Tories,” as the Duchess
termed the ill-judged manœuvres of that party, she owed, as she
acknowledged, the temporary abatement, for it could not be called a
change, that was effected in the Queen’s high church fervour, and
obstinate, yet honest Toryism.[17]
Lord Rochester, who, as long as he remained in existence, was the
chief object of the Duchess’s political displeasure—the thorn which,
in the midst of her greatness, rankled in her side—was a man highly
esteemed, not only by the party whose tenets he zealously and
powerfully supported, but by the country in general. Far from being
entirely indebted for the consideration which he enjoyed, to “the
accident,” as the Duchess termed it, which made him uncle to the
Queen, his earnestness and steadiness, during a long political life,
had insured him universal respect, heightened, in the minds of those
of the old school of English politics, by his relationship to the
great historian and advocate of their party. There is a sort of
reputation, a description of influence, which consistency, whether it
be to the most approved or the most unpopular opinions of the time,
can alone purchase. From the time that Lord Rochester, when Mr. Hyde,
had pleaded for his father before the House of Commons, reconciling
his filial love with his public duty, he had held an even, and, as far
as the great changes in affairs would permit, an unequivocal line of
conduct. After the bill against occasional Conformity was rejected,
Lord Rochester first began to evince that “deep discontent with the
Queen and her administration,”[18] which secret jealousies, and a real
difference of sentiment had long been fostering in his mind. In the
previous year, he had, in anger, declined the lieutenancy of Ireland,
upon the Queen’s urging him to go to that country, the affairs of
which required his presence. His resignation was followed, in 1704, by
that of Lord Nottingham, who resigned the secretaryship upon the
Queen’s refusal to dismiss the Dukes of Devonshire and Somerset from
the council. This step on the part of Lord Nottingham was far more
important in its consequences to the future fortunes of the
Marlborough family, than they could, at that moment, possibly have
foretold. After a month’s delay his place was filled up, and Harley,
the prudent, the conciliating, and moderate, but aspiring Harley,
succeeded to it; holding, at the same time, the office of Speaker of
the House of Commons and that of Secretary of State—two appointments
that had hitherto never been assigned to the same person.[19]
This preferment Harley owed chiefly to the favour of Marlborough and
Godolphin, who considered him as a very proper person to manage the
House of Commons.[20] They knew his talents, but they were not
acquainted with the extent of his ambition, nor with his actual
sentiments. Towards Marlborough, this able and celebrated minister
expressed, at this time, an ardent attachment, and a lively concern in
the recent loss which the great general had sustained in the death of
Lord Blandford. “I will not,” he says, in a letter to the Duke on that
topic, “call it your grace’s loss, but our common misfortune. I do feel
it, that a limb is torn off; therefore I think, for the preservation of
the residue, grief should be moderated: time, I know, is the best
physician in this case; but our necessities require a quicker
remedy.”[21]The Duchess, who must be regarded as the mainspring of all
political changes at this period, had now inadvertently planted an enemy
in the heart of the citadel. Whilst her husband was in Holland,
distracted by contending factions and corroding jealousies, which, to
use his own phrase, “made his life a burthen,” she had been diligently
exerting the faculties of her ingenious mind to displace Nottingham,
Seymour, and Lord Jersey, and to effect an union between her husband and
the Whigs. Her efforts, like female interference generally, embarrassed
rather than aided the Whigs, to whom she extended her gracious aid. They
rendered, also, the path of her husband through the political mazes
which surrounded him, more perplexing. Although the Whig party had
encouraged Marlborough’s favourite schemes for the subversion of the
power of France, neither he nor Godolphin desired to throw themselves
into the hands of a party to whose measures they were from education
averse. It was the wish and intention of these able men to act
independently of party, and to promote the introduction of statesmen of
sound morals and of moderate views into the cabinet, without regarding
the political distinctions which proved so inconvenient to those who
solely desired the advancement of the public good, and the benefit, at
home and abroad, of her Majesty’s interests.
The violence of the Tories, and their determination to obtain a complete
ascendency, frustrated this well-considered line of conduct on the part
of Marlborough and his friend. Lord Rochester had been supported by
Nottingham, in his opposition to that line of foreign policy which
Marlborough had most at heart. Lord Godolphin had even, at one time,
purposed to send in his resignation; for he found that he and his friend
were losing the support of the Tories, without gaining that of the
Whigs. The Queen overwhelmed the Lord Treasurer with reproaches whenever
he hinted at the necessity of conciliating the Whigs. Godolphin, in
despair, despatched letters to the Hague, filled with complaints to his
friend. Marlborough, though by no means in an enviable situation
himself, regarded that of Godolphin as still more pitiable. “I have very
little rest here,” he remarks, writing from the camp; “but I should have
less quiet of mind, if I were obliged to be in your station.” “I do from
my heart pity you,” he says, in another place, “and everybody that has
to do with unreasonable people; for certainly (and who will not join in
the reflection?) it is much better to row in the galleys than to have to
do with such as are very selfish, and misled by everybody that speaks to
them, which I believe is the case of the author of your two letters.”
The Duchess was not a person to conciliate differences, nor to soothe
the irritated passions of the two great men over whom she had an
ascendency. She delighted to show her controul over the Queen, and vexed
the weak spirit of Anne by reading extracts from Marlborough’s letters,
complaining of the Tories. In particular, she failed not to transmit to
her Majesty certain hints which Marlborough and Godolphin had thrown out
of their projected resignations. Good Queen Anne then hastened to dispel
such notions, and to reassure her beloved Mr. and Mrs. Freeman, and
their friend and confidante Godolphin, who figured in her familiar
letters under the name of “Montgomery,” of her unabated regard. Thus the
aim of the arrogant Duchess was answered.
The Earl of Jersey, who was suspected of a close correspondence with the
court of St. Germains, of course seconded the opposition of Rochester
and Nottingham. The Duke of Buckingham, Lord Privy Seal, was equally
devoted to what was termed the high church party, though not so reputed
a partisan of the exiled family as the weak, but dangerous, Lord Jersey.
These noblemen all united in controverting, by every possible endeavour,
the designs and propositions of Marlborough.[22]
Whilst the fervour of politics was at its height, the Queen was advised
by her physicians to go to Bath. It was singular that Lord Wharton and
Lord Somers were at the same time ordered to go to that fashionable
resort for the recovery of their health. Lord Wharton, exhausted by his
parliamentary exertions, and Lord Somers, frequently an invalid, were
probably not unwilling to avail themselves of this opportunity of
combining business with pleasure. The public, indeed, regarded the whole
as a scheme among the physicians, and considered the Queen’s illness as
only a pretext for meeting these two great Whig partisans on the neutral
ground which a place like Bath affords. Many of the Tories who were in
that city, insulted the Whigs in public meetings and assemblies. The
Whigs returned the insult, nor did the Queen wholly escape some
annoyances, when it was understood that she was willing to see Lord
Somers. But the placid Anne looked on these demonstrations of party
spirit with a smiling countenance, and “hoped to extinguish all their
party flames in the waters of the Bath.” Those praises of her frugality,
her constancy, her “English heart,”[23] which she had been in the habit
of hearing from her subjects, were now no longer expressed; and the
Queen returned to London from Bath, in all the miseries of unpopularity.
Lord Wharton, the veteran promoter of Whig principles, and father of the
eccentric and infamous Duke of Wharton, had no sooner reached Bath than
he was challenged, upon the pretence of affront, by a Mr. Dashwood, a
hot young Tory, who was desirous of stepping forward to signalise
himself in behalf of his party. Lord Wharton in vain offered the young
man such satisfaction as a man of honour might give, without fighting;
but neither his age nor his infirmities appeased the ardour of Dashwood,
who insisted on a duel. The parties met, fought, as was the custom, with
swords, and Dashwood was disarmed by the old lord, who, in consideration
of the youth and zeal of his opponent, spared his life, and even gave
him the honour of his acquaintance. But Mr. Dashwood, unable to sustain
the reproaches of the world for his cowardice and rude fury in
challenging so old a man, died soon afterwards, it is said, through
shame and vexation.[24]
Such were some of the effects of that political rancour for which this
free country has been, and probably ever will be, remarkable. The ladies
of the time, it appears, were as zealous in those days as they often
prove in this more enlightened age.